A Good Cleaning
by Burnedtoasty
Summary: G1: Skyfire, after a hard cycle's work, finds it somewhat difficult to get himself clean and relaxed. Starscream, of course, is all too happy to oblige. Slash. Pre-earth.
1. Water Pressure

**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to Hasbro, and the respective artists/writers/et cetera. No infringement intended._

**Continuity**: Generation One (G1) Cartoon-verse

**Characters**: Skyfire, Starscream

**Warnings**: Slash. Starscream / Skyfire

**Author's Note**: Criticism encouraged, technical points preferable.

--

"You're filthy."

Skyfire looked down at himself, frowning. His normally white body was streaked with grey and black dirt, dulling it to a mucky brownish shade, particularly dark at his feet and hands. He plucked free a few stray bits of primal vegetation from a seam in his hip joint. "So I am," He acknowledged in an ambiguous rumble, shrugging off the concern. It wasn't that unusual; after all, they had just gotten back from a long jaunt to the nearby dead planet, in a basic survey. Being grimy was just part of the job.

Glancing up, he frowned anew. Starscream was perfectly immaculate, absolutely sparkling from a recent, thorough cleaning. The smaller scientist scowled, propped up against the wall so as to best display all his shining, hygienic glory.

That made no sense. The tetrajet had been even filthier than _he_ was, having been nearly black from the thick layer of dust the last Skyfire had seen him.

Feeling abruptly awkward, Skyfire turned away, fiddling with his recent geological samples, adjusting them although they were already arranged perfectly. In truth, he was somewhat mortified, to be in such a bedraggled state. When they had both been disheveled, it hadn't been an issue of merit; there was no judgment from either party, since they were in roughly the same state.

But, with Starscream coming out so clean and he being in such shabby repair… well. It wasn't exactly a wonderful shape to present himself in. Certainly, they had seen each other in states of disrepair from experiments gone awry, even in the short time they had known one another. Now that they had finally, officially been commissioned as field researchers, he wanted to remain such. To allow himself to fall into such poor condition – and remain that way, when his partner had found the time to clean himself up – was not a characteristic he wished to be remembered for. It hardly left a good impression, and he was desperate to impress his new cohort.

And, maybe, even catch his optic for longer than a moment…

The acute sensation of embarrassment grew exponentially, causing him to hunch in upon himself. Cautiously, he looked out of the corner of one optic—

His partner had left.

Feeling both relieved and disappointed, Skyfire again looked to his neat little tray, unenthusiastically nudging the core samples about. Primus, couldn't anything go right for him?

Accusingly, he stared down at the captured pods of soil, disliking how closely his hands matched their shade. Absently, he tried to wipe away the larger streaks of grime, only succeeding in creating a more even spread of the grit. Again, he swiped the film of dirt, mouth tugging down petulantly as, yet once more, he only made the problem worse.

"It's better with solvent."

A light brush of fingers flicked across the back of his arm, drawing his gaze down and to the side.

Starscream grinned readily, with only the barest trace of uneasiness under his smirk. "You won't get rid of it that way."

Skyfire continued to stare at the small hand, resting ever-so-innocently against his arm. A peculiar warmth spread from the contact, soothing his ruffled nerves. It would be easy, from this angle, to turn about, to grab his shoulders and—

Reflexively, he jerked his arm away, breaking the connection.

A brief flicker of emotion moved across Starscream's face. He stepped away, allowing the wall of distance imposed between them to close once more.

Skyfire was grateful for the buffer. It let him think more clearly.

"I'm… sorry," He mumbled, ashamed at how harsh the gesture had been. He hadn't meant to be so rude, inwardly cursing himself for a fool after being so uncouth. "I—"

"It's better if you use a rag and some solvent," The tetrajet spoke over him, dismissing further apology. He pointed toward the doorway, where the necessary supplies rested. "I thought that, since you were obviously too busy to tend to yourself, I'd just…" He offered a half-grin. His voice _seemed_ all teasing lightness, but Skyfire heard a bare trace of hurt under the offer.

Skyfire shifted about, subspacing his samples to allow him something to distract him, if only for a moment. "No, thank you. I can do it myself." He murmured, refusing to turn back around. He inwardly cringed at how his voice seemed to growl, almost hostile. To soften his behavior, he tentatively asked, without turning, "Is… is there anything else you…?"

"No, nothing else," Starscream responded, waving off the inquiry. "I'm just going to go… write up the report." He spun away, quickly disappearing around the bend of the entryway, sparing Skyfire from further humiliation.

Without even a hint of a goodbye.

Troubled, Skyfire at last turned to face away from the counter, leaning his impressive bulk against it, covering his face in one hand. Not a moment after, he grimaced, knowing that the gesticulation would provide yet _more_ dirt to scrub off.

Sighing, he let his hand slip away to thud softly against the counter, letting it hang limply at his side. On misstep after another, ever since he had met Starscream. Never before had he been so clumsy, so very loutish in interpersonal relations. If anything, he had been quite affable, well-liked at his previous station.

The transfer had been so perfect – to be a field researcher in such a large facility… it was a hope he had dared not entertain. And they had gotten along so well, straight from the onset. He found his partner's cutting wit refreshing, his exuberance a pleasant counterpoint to his own fastidious, pedantic nature. Of course, it had to be taken in slow steps; first lab partners, working on experimental methods and differing chemical compounds to become used to one another's methods. And now, field researchers both, given leave to explore the greater scope of the cosmos.

It had all gone so well.

Too well.

Skyfire found himself… awkward, graceless on his own feet around the much more nimble jet. His words came out wrong; his body cumbersome in comparison to how it had been before. It was incredibly frustrating, seemingly without cause or justification, a strange malady. He had even gone so far as to register himself for a full systems check, against the dim possibility of some sort of malfunction.

But nothing was outwardly wrong with him. Still, the incongruity of his own conduct persisted. Over time, with careful analysis of his surroundings and symptoms, he managed to identify the anomaly.

Evidently, his partner was the epicenter of his tribulations.

Further exploration of his inexplicable ailment had led to… incompatible results. It was not a scientific process, having no thorough course of logic and rationalization to arrive at his conclusions. Instead, he 

relied one what was _felt_. He found himself feeling… funny, when in the tetrajet's presence, as if his spark had suddenly swelled in its casing. A tickling sort of warmth, one that was as pleasant as it was horrifying. Without any perceptible substantiation, he wanted to reach out and just _touch_ the jet, for no discernible reason at all.

He didn't understand it. And, as a scientist, that disturbed him to no end.

So, he attempted to ignore the feelings, the abnormality of his comportment. Physical contact was kept to the minimum. For a time, that had worked, quashing the curious sensations.

But, now, that defense was crumbling, resulting in ever-wilder manifestations of his affliction. And it _hurt_, to push Starscream away, to be so cool and distant when he wanted – dreadfully – to have the easy camaraderie of their initial contact.

It had even begun to affect both of their respective performances, and personal interactions.

Was he destroying their fragile sense of allegiance with his coldness?

The thought both made him distraught and relieved. To be without Starscream was to again be master of himself. With the jet gone, he could go back to the way he had been; happy; comfortable within his niche in life, in a career he loved more than life itself.

But the merest contemplation of such a separation… he didn't understand how such a simple concept could provoke such a slue of emotional backlash. The very notion – the barest insinuation of severance – distressed him greatly, eliciting a painful contraction deep within his chest; his very spark rebelling against such an idea.

Surely feeling such a deep… _fondness_ was not worth the pain it caused. It was not reciprocated, obviously. It would be better to leave, to return to his old post, and continue as he had left off, and let these feelings wither and die.

Upset, Skyfire shoved away from his impromptu prop, trudging toward the cleaning center, scooping up the sanitization implements on his way out. He knew he wouldn't leave. Because, if there was any chance, even the slightest, that Starscream could ever feel the same…

He couldn't go back.

It was a short walk to the wash room, being only a few doors down from their communal lab. The astringent lights showed him in stark relief to the beige paneling of the walls, riddled with numerous hoses and drainage ports.

Carefully, he set the solvent and other assorted cleaning tools aside, stepping under one of the many rinsing stations. The motion sensors, picking up his presence, activated the sequence, sending down a deluge of liquid, scouring away the bulk of the grime that coated him. He reached out, snagging one of the larger rags, and began to meticulously scrub away at his exterior, letting the blackened soil slide free into the drains, whirlpooling as it disappeared.

Once his front and both arms were well cleaned, he moved to his legs, flexing his joints to free the more stubborn clumps from their moorings. It was difficult work; his large, blunt fingers were not meant for such tiny spaces, thwarting many attempts to fully excavate the grit.

With as much of the grime out as he could manage, he reluctantly straightened, knowing that the granules would eventually work themselves free.

Now for the tricky part.

Forlornly, he glanced around the cleaning station, searching in vain for a high-pressure nozzle. At his old station, such were common enough, allowing him to readily clean his back and shoulders. However, at his new institution…

Frowning, he turned and angled himself best he could to allow the liquid sanitizer to spray off the bulk. Unfortunately, the pressure left much to be desired, allowing large sections that required further buffing to 

remain, clinging obstinately to his exterior.

Grunting in exasperation, he straightened, flailing with the rag one hand, trying to slap the dirt free. He twisted about, desperately arching his back—

And watched Starscream pace by the doorless entryway, ostensibly absorbed in his datapad.

Skyfire froze in his precarious pose, watching with wide optics as the jet walked by without note or comment, completely ignoring the unfortunate shuttle and his strenuous battle. Only once his steady footfalls had retreated fully back into their mutual laboratory did Skyfire allow tensed cables to relax, settling his raised foot back onto the firm plating.

Slowly, the shuttle let his arm fall, absolutely humiliated though he had – outwardly, in any case – gone unobserved. He stood, indecisively clutching at the rag, staring out the doorway, thoroughly soaked down to his waterproofed internals.

Perhaps...

After a moment, he took a diffident step, followed by another, the barrage of liquid ceasing as he went out of range. Once he was at the entrance, he leaned his upper torso and head out, staring down the empty corridor. The laboratory was mostly quiet, with only the rattle of a few objects being moved about to better accommodate whatever activity his partner was up to.

Activating his vocalizer, he called, "Starscream?" wincing at how very diffident his normally loud voice sounded.

There was no verbal response, his quiet query fading anonymously into silence. Something clanked in the lab, followed by a soft explicative.

Again, louder, "Starscream?"

The muttered cursing paused.

He nearly withdrew back into the cleaning chamber, nervously tapping a finger against a wall panel as indecision struck him. But the jet peeked out a moment before Skyfire could hide again behind the wall. "Yes?" He seemed distracted; voice that terse little snap that he assumed whenever he was interrupted in his train of thought.

Skyfire ducked slightly, abashed. "I… I was just…"

"Just what?"

The shuttle gestured helplessly, feeling particularly foolish having the conversation while cringing behind the wall. "I… I can't quite reach…" Mortified, he shook his head, intending to withdraw back to fight with the problematic water pressure system.

But understanding lit up Starscream's optics. "Oh. I see. Just a moment." He disappeared a moment, his datapad thunking heavily and skittering across a counter. Skyfire flinched as he heard the delicate piece of equipment overshoot the edge, clattering across the floor. Ignoring the probable destruction of what most likely amounted to his hundredth datapad, the tetrajet strolled casually back out into the hallway, waving Skyfire back into the cleaning room.

Meekly, Skyfire backed away from the door, standing slightly off center, fingering the used rag in dismay. In a matter of astroseconds – hardly enough for proper mental fortification – Starscream rounded the bend, giving him a succinct perusal. "You missed some," He informed the shuttle, pointing at his still-mildly-dirty legs.

Skyfire shifted, discomfited. "I… I couldn't quite get to all of it."

"You don't say," The jet drawled, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

"And I couldn't reach my wings." Skyfire mumbled, pointing back over his shoulders to indicate the general 

region.

"Ah."

For a time, they stared at each other, uncertain of how to begin. Then, Starscream unexpectedly broke the silence, clapping his hands together briskly. He nodded to Skyfire, twirling his wrist in a gesture meant to indicate 'turn around' snagging a fresh rag in his free hand.

Cautiously, Skyfire ambled about, still clasping his utterly soiled cloth. His cables and joints tightened, tensed as if he were preparing to spring away from some great threat.

But Starscream approached with calculated indifference, putting the clean rag to Skyfire's still dripping back. He started with easy circles, buffing away the worst of the grime, before brushing it away in one clump, working with an efficiency that spoke of long experience.

It wasn't the hard, fast scrubs of a mechanism in a hurry. Nor could it be called the slow draw of intimacy. Instead, it was something between, relaxing rather than stimulating. Against his better judgment, Skyfire found himself leaning into the soothing motions, slackening his taut cables. It felt nice, to have such an unrepentant contact between them, with nothing expected or questionable about it.

And, he had to give credit where it was due: Starscream was _good_.

To break the silence – companionable as it might have been – he blurted, "Have you done this before?" Instantly regretting the awkward beginnings of the conversation.

The gentle circles paused, briefly. "Once or twice," Starscream replied charily, his touch perceptibly withdrawing as he continued his ministrations. "Why?"

"I was just curious. You, ah, seem to know what you're doing." Skyfire shrugged, grimacing at his own lack of tact. When had he lost all sense of good taste in conversation?

Starscream, however, seemed unaffected by his lack of etiquette, snickered roguishly. His voice dropped lower, almost becoming husky, as he chuckled, "Heh. Well. Let's just say I know my way around a shuttle."

Inexplicably, Skyfire stiffened, as if struck. With a supreme effort of will, he forced himself to relax again, squashing the sudden rush of jealousy – and, yes, hurt – the welled up in his spark. It was meant to be a joke, to lighten the atmosphere. Nothing more. He was overreacting. It wasn't as if he had a justified reason to warrant such a response, in any case. Such things hardly applied to him. After all, he had no claim on Starscream; the jet could do as he wished, with whomever he wished.

Even if it wasn't him.

"Really?" He ground out, ignoring his further boorishness as he firmly suppressed any lingering feelings of betrayal.

It was then he became aware of the lack of contact between them.

"Something wrong?" Starscream asked, carefully, as if he feared he had treaded upon some delicate subject.

"No, no. Everything's fine. I'm sorry. You… pressed a little firmly on a sensitive area." He rumbled the half-truth, glancing back to gauge Starscream's expression. When the jet's countenance remained dubious, he affirmed his case, offering a half-smile. "It's fine."

The jet hesitated, and then tentatively set himself back to task, briskly working out the thick dirt. Both remained quiet this time, letting him work his way down and around the shuttle's back and wings and legs – diligent to be extra gentle in the more sensitive areas – with deft certainty.

Skyfire found himself quite mellow and at ease as the time stretched on, his optics offlining as his mind drifted about, nearly slipping into unconsciousness. It was easy to forget where he was – and who he was with – when there was such a pleasant, continuous kneading at his body, scrupulously removing the various bits of remaining grime and dirt.

Until, that is, until irreverent fingers tapped on his chest, drawing him forcibly out of his reverie. "Go to your alternate mode."

The shuttle looked down, mouth drawing into a baffled line at the demand. "What?"

"I can't properly get into some areas. It will be easier if you are in your shuttle mode." He clarified, tilting back his head to stare Skyfire defiantly in the face, daring the shuttle to question his logic. When the larger mechanism remained motionless – and still quite bipedal – he sighed expressively.

"I'll even polish you if you do," He bribed, waving the rag like some sort of flag.

Granting him a wan smile, Skyfire settled into his alternate mode, stretching stiffened cables and joints that had locked from standing for so long.

Starscream waited for him to fully transform, then ran a finger down his side. "Hrm. Not terribly bad. Clean, for the most part." He strode around the shuttle, inspecting his handiwork. At one point, near Skyfire's midsection, he leaned in close, heavily scrutinizing an old burn mark. After chafing at it for a moment or two, he gave it up as a lost cause, continuing his leisurely stroll to end up before Skyfire's nosecone, grinning affably as he came to a stop.

"This could take a while. I suggest you get comfortable."

Exaggeratedly, Skyfire wriggled on his axis. "This is about as comfortable as I'm going to get."

"Suit yourself," Starscream whirled away, past Skyfire's limited visual range, but not beyond his scanners' – which, for the most part, took the place of optics whilst in his alternate mode. The jet liberally coated a rag in polish, whilst speculatively eyeing the shuttle's dull – if clean – exterior.

Making his decision quickly, the jet strode confidently to Skyfire's side, more at ease with the mechanism's body.

Skyfire almost purred at the feel of cool polish against his plating, rolling his body as much into the motions as possible. Once more, he allowed his mind to drift in and out of the present, comfortable enough with Starscream's methods to trust him.

Sudden, shocking sensation rocketed through him, abruptly, jerking him forcibly out of a near-recharge.

Beyond startled, all his long-range sensors and relays were primed on high alert, thinking some threat had moved upon him. But he could only rouse an awareness of the round room and Starscream and—

The feeling tore through him again, effectively severing the trail of thought.

"W-w-what are you _doing_?" He gasped, forcing himself to not shudder as the aftershocks rippled up and down his relay system.

Quite innocently – too innocently – Starscream looked up from where he was scrubbing away at the sensor-ridden nosecone. "There's a stubborn stain here. Hold on a moment."

Skyfire _meant_ to say 'wait', to allow him a moment to dampen his sensor arrays, but Starscream was already working on the spot, unknowing of what effects he was wreaking. The scintillating feelings trickled out from the motion, gaining power as it shot out throughout his body, wracking it with involuntary spasms. He rocked gently, unable to thrash as he wanted to – unable to think and remember how to transform and, oh, _Primus_, he _had_ to know what he was doing to him, he couldn't just be doing that on accident, and – slag him – it felt _so very good_—

"Hold still," The jet chided, allegedly ignorant of what he had started. "It's almost out."

Skyfire tried to activate his vocalizer, desperate to escape the sudden pleasure that was running amuck through his senses, destroying any and all rational thought it happened upon. However, just as he gained enough fortitude to actually manage it, the pressure and speed of the buffing increased, sending him spiraling in a white screen of euphoria.

All endeavors for escape were lost as his frame went stiff, the rapture intensifying as it was volleyed back and forth down his body. Waves of stimulation, built one layer up upon the next, enterprised to send him over, unable to dampen the sensors, to shut off the sensation at all. A groan clawed for release, some indication of the throbbing agony-ecstasy he was experiencing, but the blasted thing _would not_ activate no matter what he—

Oh, too much, _too much_!

A pause – thank the stars – as the jet rocked back, seemingly done, just enough to gather some semblance of thought together, enough to grasp futilely at higher cognitive functions past the bliss and—

"Whoops, missed a spot." The hint of a wicked smirk, maybe, but it was so hard to focus.

_Nnnggahhh_!

The moment before overload hit him, he gathered his frayed and tattered will, transformed, and shoved Starscream away, hard, before huddling in upon himself, rocking back and forth as he fought the urge to _scream_ out.

A few moments, letting himself reboot, hastily shutting down the relay system as his still-trembling arms hugged around himself, holding the shuddering moan pressing upon his vocalizer.

At last able to gather and compose himself, he gradually eased himself out of his tight hunch, an unsteady breath rattling free. With excruciating slowness he looked up, quivering with the aftershock of an unexpected overload.

Starscream lay sprawled back where he had landed, half on his elbows, legs askew, staring with wide optics at the larger mechanism. For a few, tense moments, they stared each other down, the silence absolute.

Then: "Sensitive area?"

Skyfire gaped at the irreverent smirk, the cocky nonchalance writ large upon the smaller jet's face, then laughed, the sound high and strained. His head clunked forward, chin striking his chest. "Y-yes."

The grin faded slightly, Starscream's optics dimming. "Are… are you alright?"

"I'm… fine." Skyfire informed the floor, desperately hoping that the jet had just mistaken the… escapade… as a display of pain rather than what it had been. For all intents and purposes, Starscream didn't appear to realize what had transpired.

Though that innocent face had seemed a little _too_ innocuous.

"Oh. Good." Starscream nodded, sitting up fully. He glanced down at the rag in his hands, frowning slightly at it. "That stain didn't come out all the way."

Skyfire made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his head jerking up so quickly a cable nearly broke. "I – I think we're done."

"Oh," The jet said, looking vaguely disappointed. He fiddled with the bit of cloth, folding it unevenly before letting it unfurl again.

"I had better clean up," Skyfire offered, feeling safe enough to dare attempt rising. With only a mild sense of disorientation, he braced himself upright, determined to keep his feet under him despite how the world wanted to tilt.

Starscream frowned up at him, expectantly, before sighing and hauling himself to his own feet. "Reports," He explicated with an apologetic shrug. Sidling around the larger mechanism, he made a line for the door, glancing back only once as he rounded the corner.

Skyfire waited until he was certain the jet was well and truly gone, then slumped back to the floor, staring dumbly at his pristine hands.

_That_, he decided, staring down at the glimmer of fresh polish, _is the last time I_ ever _get a wash from Starscream_.

Half a moment later, however, he retracted the declaration.

After all… someone had to get his back.


	2. Accidently On Purpose

Starscream paced the lab, deeply perplexed, his polish-coated hands twisting the cracked datapad, uncaring of the further damage he did the abused equipment. He did not understand it at all. It was obvious that Skyfire had been interested; the gigantic mechanism was as readable as pulley system schematics. The way he blustered about when he was caught looking for a moment too long, the almost-absent 'accidental' brushes as they walked by each other… he would have done better to have painted it boldly across his forehead.

Still, it had been painfully clear that Skyfire had not the foggiest idea of what to do in such matters, despite his immense scientific knowledge. Too long he had been a workaholic, focused entirely upon his studies and ignoring the vast world of the sensory and bustle of life about him.

So, obligingly, Starscream had done all in his power to lead him to temptation.

Though, admittedly, he was as much a newcomer in this particular courtship as the shuttle, as he had never been interested in anyone such as Skyfire before. No, for most of his long life, he had found shuttles – frankly – insufferably tame and awkwardly ponderous under the best of circumstances. Not to mention fact that their conversations were generally mind-numbingly uninteresting. In all honesty, he preferred the sleek exteriors of smaller aircraft, such as himself – something that implied speed and maneuverability, with a razor wit set to cut. Of shuttles, this could not be said. Looming, bulky things that they were, he found them a prospect too dull to entertain – too predictable, too mellow to satisfy the thrill-addicted jet.

But in Skyfire, perversely, he found all the characteristics he normally snubbed… attractive. Entertaining, actually – his meticulousness and determination was something to behold. Dialogue with him was an intellectual buffet, full of fascinating turns of logic, seeing things that Starscream – under ordinary circumstances – would have overlooked and dismissed absolutely enthralling. He could tinker with the dullest, most everyday of objects and find some new part or function or idea that Starscream was certain no one else could have thought up – simply because he was that obsessively methodical. Mind-boggling, annoying, amazingly methodical.

As well, Skyfire seemed a plethora of quiet, dry sarcasm, with an ability to make the jet _actually_ laugh, without rancor or irony. Someone it was ridiculously easy to talk to and relate to, even over the most inane of topics. It wasn't exactly a long stretch of the imagination to think that a magnetism would eventually form, with so much of the shuttle so very appealing to him.

But he wasn't supposed to be _this_ captivated! Not to the point of obsessing over every little nuance of possible suggestion, searching in vain for any _hint_ that the blatant flirting was returned – all too rare as it was. It was supposed to be quick and easy, a casual tryst or two, and they could both move on. But Skyfire wasn't with the program, wasn't running with the script in the slightest.

Wasn't he being obnoxiously obvious enough? More so than he had been, in any case. Slag, even breems ago, he had made his offer clear with the line about 'knowing his way', heavy-laden with insinuation and proposal. Either Skyfire was the most oblivious mech he had ever met, or…

Starscream paused, a frown pulling down at his lips. It couldn't be that… Skyfire had lost interest, could it?

He resumed his pacing, gaze dropping to the floor as he brooded.

Perhaps he had. After all, he had reacted so… negatively to the earlier suggestion, becoming tense and aloof, as if somehow offended. Snappish, even. And, in the overload that Starscream had all-too-knowingly started – first by slapping the delicate sensors to wake him to full alert, then manipulating the sensitive surface toward his ends as a sort of preliminary viewing to what he could offer – Skyfire had shoved him aside.

The frown devolved into a scowl. He wasn't sure if he could handle being shoved out of a berth after every interface.

_Don't get ahead of yourself_, he admonished silently, somewhat amused by the mental image. Grouchy Skyfire, he had discovered far earlier in their friendship, was a fun Skyfire. And if he could draw out and crack that too-well-restrained temper while interfacing with the larger mechanism… ah, well, there were possibilities there.

Of course, first he had to lure the shuttle in, ere such pleasant theories could be tested. Which, of course, was the crux of the whole issue.

Leave it to be a transport craft to be this thick.

He paused by a cluttered countertop, tapping one hand against it in an idle, irregular rhythm. No, Skyfire couldn't have dismissed him so quickly. It was too abrupt. And _nobody_ rejected his advances. It was laughable. It was, frankly, impossible.

But… maybe that was why he had been acting so very strangely lately, studiously avoiding even the slightest physical contact between them, all but running away at the mere suggestion of spending time out of the institute together. While initially amusing to watch such a large, powerful mechanism get flustered and embarrassed by little him, the novelty was wearing thin, leaving irritation writhing beneath the surface. He had only so much patience to wait out a squeamish mechanism, after all. He had never been attracted to meek or hesitant sparks before – though he was fairly certain Skyfire was neither, given his usually forthright behavior.

It was just as well. He preferred intimate relationships to be undemanding and to the point, with as few strings attached as possible, allowing him to flit off to the next target of his whim once the rapport became stale. If a few feelings were hurt along the way, so be it; he didn't _ask_ them to become emotionally involved with him, and they were always free to back out before things became too close. His attention span, after all, was notoriously short.

Although...

Perhaps this went beyond squeamishness or just plain obstinate ignorance. Perhaps, in actuality, Skyfire was fully aware of his subtle allusions, and was simply refusing him, hoping to spare his feelings and their working dynamic.

He reached back and drew a convenient chair close, optics wide as he flopped gracelessly into it. Snubbing… _him_? How? Why?

Something prickled sharply in his chest, an achy throb that grew outward, compounding the abhorrent thought. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to the spot, feeling strangely brittle. But nothing was outwardly wrong, nothing to warrant such soreness.

He scowled, turning from hurt to anger in his kaleidoscope of distinctly rapid mood shifts. He had never taken rejection well. Then again, he never had to.

So what if Skyfire thought him _unworthy_ of his affections? It didn't matter to him – there were many more willing sparks out there for the plucking. What did one drab shuttle mean to him, with such better fare available? Nothing. Stupid Skyfire was nothing at all.

His mouth set into a grim line. Nothing indeed.

The ache persisted.

Discomfited, he shifted about, letting his hand flop from the area over his spark, reluctant to admit the probable. It wasn't supposed to happen to him. He was too selfish to… be _that_ close. It made life far too problematic.

However, facts contradicted his wishes.

No. It couldn't be. This had to be a passing fancy. Once he managed to persuade Skyfire to cross to his side, it would surely dissipate, as such things had gone before. And, if nothing else, a definitive answer to Skyfire's preferences would end any and all strange wants, allowing him to disregard the shuttle once and for all.

… There had to be a way to bring that intractable shuttle around, without risking their current partnership.

Steepling his fingers, the jet leaned back in his chair, flinging one leg over his knee as he contemplated the far wall. He had plenty of time to plot; Skyfire was beyond embarrassed – thinking Starscream had not noticed his, ah, _performance_, no doubt, but made even the more mortified by that fact – and likely would not dare to show his face again until it was absolutely necessary.

Shuttles. So predictable.

Starscream snickered softly.

He'd just have to be more overt, and pressure Skyfire into confronting him. Even a dullard would be able to understand his motives, with enough unequivocal propositions.

But of course he would get nothing done in that quarter for today. Better to let Skyfire amble his way back, after the initial spell of redundant shame.

Swiveling his chair about, the jet scuttled his way back to the lump of his datapad. After a few moments of fiddling, it managed to come back to life with a fritzing groan and a hail of sparks. He glowered at the fragmented lettering across its screen, bamboozled by the reaction.

The silly things were always mysteriously breaking on him.

Honestly. You'd think someone would have done something to make them less accident-prone.


	3. Breaking and Entering

The room was dim.

It took a few moments for the befuddled shuttle to realize where he was, to rearrange his scattered senses and equilibrium into a semblance of order. Cold metal against his helmet. Something sharp prodding into the malleable dermaplating of his face. There was the distinct chime of rolling beakers as he tilted his head to take in the greater scope of the room, optics a soft glow against the artificial gloom.

He was in the lab, he realized faintly, watching with detached interest as a beaker posed precariously upon the edge of his work desk. It fell free, shattering with a harsh discordance upon the unyielding flooring.

The sound jolted him firmly into the realm of the living. With a low groan, he sat upright, one hand rising to rub at a strained cable on the back of his neck. Blearily, he looked about him in apparent confusion, lost as to how he had ended up face down on his desk, when, according to his chronometer, he should have been back in his own berth several joors ago.

His gaze dropped down, the facts clicking back into place.

Ah. Now he remembered. The geological composition readouts. His reports. He'd been working on them for the last several rotational cycles, neglecting energon and recharge in his zeal to unlock the mysteries of the modest planetoid.

And avoid Starscream at all costs, of course.

"Nuhg," he grunted, embarrassed, rocking back in his seat at the unbidden thought. No. He wasn't _avoiding_ him, per se. He was just… very distracted. Busy with his studies. Yes. Not the same thing at all. Not in the slightest, no.

Warily, he twisted half about, looking to the door with apprehension. But the entrance was innocuous enough, exactly as he had left it, the access panel still dark with disuse.

Solitude reaffirmed, he again looked back to his work, staring down at it with a faintly accusing mien. One hand reached out, absently, up-righting a sampler sheet. It was an automated response, to fiddle and fret over his workspace when troubled. Thus he fidgeted, nudging about and rearranging objects that required no further moving. It was, after all, very important that he maintained his work environment. Psychologically.

After a few pointless moments, he caved in, admitting it to himself. He was terribly mortified. Ever since the… incident… with the cleaning racks, he had been unable to keep Starscream out of his mind for long. And, in all honesty, he was increasingly aware that he didn't want to. Being around the jet made him _happy_. Even thinking of him brought a sense of warmth and contentment to his spark. It was a Good Thing to think of, and be around, his partner. Irrationally so. _Frustratingly_. It had no _reason_ to it. No order of logic in the very least. It was an entirely random emotional reaction of attachment and familiarity where there should have been none, as they had not had time enough to form such bonds. He didn't understand it in the slightest. Often, of late, he had found himself pondering on the myriad of 'what if' situations that pranced about his processor. Hypothetical little scenes between himself and Starscream - conversations they could have, things they could do. And, sometimes – much to his chagrin – when he was feeling particularly lonely, he even went so far as to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't pushed him away when…

Well. His imagination was becoming increasingly vivid as well.

Deeply embarrassed by the thought, Skyfire hunched his shoulders, accidentally crushing a beaker in a convulsive flexing of his digits.

Grimacing he opened his hand, watching the little shards of glass fall free to dance and skitter across the counter top. There they rested, twinkling like little stars – another mess to clean up.

Silly things, really. So easily broken. Hardly worth having.

He sighed in resignation, pressing one hand flat along the edge of the counter, and swept the shattered glass into his palm. He swept his gaze about him in vain, scouring for some sort of garbage disposal bin. His optics narrowed in thought, as it was becoming clear there was none to be found. He was certain he had once possessed one. But the immediate area was distinctly void of such vessels – suspiciously so.

Ah. Yes. Now he remembered. He had left it in their mutual lab. In 'Enemy Territory', so to speak.

He craned his head back, twisting about to stare at the only barrier between himself and the general uncomfortableness that was the larger world. The little light beside the doorway – a flashing red dot to warn of a lip seemingly designed to catch unwary feet using the entryway – blinked accusingly, goading him to risk it. What's the worst that could happen? it asked. Not as if he bites.

Or did he? The question called for further contemplation. For the good of science, of course, he added hastily. The greater knowledge and all that.

Refocusing himself and shoving away the enticing images that flashed irreverently through his mind, he asked the vital question:

Dare he brave that large, open space, and the potential confrontation it promised?

After a few tense moments of indecision, he subspaced the glass for later disposal, hastily turning back to his desk. He had work to do. Far too much to let such a petty thing as broken glass distract him for longer than a moment. He'd take care of it when he next ventured beyond his hole of a sanctuary for energon. Which he would do. Sometime. Eventually. Later.

He frowned lightly, a thought striking him. Surely Starscream knew he had been, well, _ignoring_ him - for lack of a better term - by now. An encounter was inevitable – the loudmouthed jet wasn't exactly one to keep quiet about slights and shunnings. Why had he not barged in and tactlessly inquired as to what Skyfire had been doing yet?

Though, now that he thought about it, the jet had undergone a rather strange behavioral overhaul of late.

His partner had become… oddly aggressive, for lack of better words. It wasn't a sudden bout of violence, or even the usual irascibility; that was hardly strange, after all. Hardly worth noting. Instead, it was as if he had turned any and all reserves of energy toward accommodating Skyfire, when the shuttle deigned to sally forth from his refuge. He was _everywhere_. Work was done promptly and exactingly, presented without the habitual 'personal touches' (read, thinly veiled contempt toward their superiors) or 'creative edits'. The chaos of their lab was, at least, better contained, almost becoming tidy.

That alone had nearly been shocking enough to send him thrusters over nosecone.

In addition, jarring invitations to outings had increased exponentially. Not brief forays into the stratosphere and beyond – those Skyfire would have leapt upon, as they would have afforded him ample opportunity to keep Starscream selfishly to himself (though he would _never_ admit it). Despite himself, he would know what he was doing in the sky, able to be more himself while in flight. Being on such solid ground – so to speak – would do wonders for his confidence, he was certain. Out there, he wouldn't be awkward and ponderous, tripping on his own feet. He wasn't built for life on the ground, clearly. In the sky, he could be impressive – and he was absolutely certain that his partner could better appreciate him there in their mutual element, he being aerially oriented as well. It would have provided him a wonderful chance to get a better foothold with Starscream, and, perhaps - just as a passing thought, of course, a little notion that had just prodded randomly at his mind, and of no specific value at all, of course - mark himself as a possibility for more than just simple friendship. A tiny hope, of course, he told himself. A small fancy.

However, to his disappointment it was not leisure flying that the jet was interested in. Starscream seemed to imply that the activity they would engage in was 'slumming'. Though he could hardly imagine the jet in such areas as he associated with the term.

Skyfire – despite his general reclusive habits – knew enough of the word to realize what it would entail. After all, he wasn't exactly naïve. It was just that, on the whole, he wasn't very interested in such activities any longer. He had already completed his experimentation; a little here and there, getting his innate inquisitiveness out of the way. It was over and done, and he had been ready to settle in for a nice, quiet life of theory and academics. Or, at least, that had been the plan, until his transfer. Funny how little things shook up your whole world. Little things in a vaguely jet-shaped outline with something of an attitude problem.

And, to be frank, he wasn't exactly much of a party-goer, and knew with a terrible certainty that he would end up embarrassing himself beyond the point of redemption should he accept any offers of an outing. Thus, somewhat flustered by the suggestion, he pretended complete ignorance, feigning being overwhelmed with data work. Rather convincingly, he thought.

Starscream, at first, had appeared glum and dejected by his roundabout rejections. But, increasingly, he seemed to revel in it, as evidenced by the escalating frequency of offers. Or so Skyfire conjectured. He really didn't understand what Starscream did one way or another, but still strove to rationalize what he could of it.

Then, of course, there were the more… subtle aspects.

He was certain it wasn't intentional – it wouldn't _seem_ like overt propositions to an outsider's perspective, he thought - but… his addled processors took them as such. How could he not? An unusual turn of phrase here, a nearly-sultry comment there – his mind boggled that Starscream seemed to take no note of how his idiolect could be misconstrued. Especially when he said it _that way_, that little change in tone that would immediately capture all of Skyfire's attention no matter what was going on around them. And not three rotational cycles back, when Starscream had, well, _posed_, on the edge of the desk, all lascivious suggestion.

Though, it had only lasted a moment. Perhaps he had, indeed, misinterpreted Starscream's actions, his recent disorientation causing his perceptions to run in a prurient vein.

Skyfire wasn't certain how he should have taken it, but rather than point out the peculiar behavior, he took the prudent route: he hid away in his personal lab and threw himself into his studies, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

But… perhaps he had worked too much.

He thought longingly of his expansive, welcoming berth, the quiet comfort of having his own personal effects around him, to better establish his sense of self. Out of range of the many things that seemed – inevitably – to remind him of his partner. That was all he needed. To go to a place of undisturbed tranquility, to reaffirm himself. A Starscream-free zone. Yes. After a suitable rest, he would be better able to tackle interpersonal issues, thinking more clearly of his situation and duties.

Rolling his shoulders, he levered himself to his feet—

And promptly fell back into the cusp of the chair, disoriented by a wave of fatigue.

His optics flickered, his automated systems check warning of ebbing energy levels. After a few moments of stubborn naysaying, he grudgingly acquiesced to the obvious. He was _exhausted_. A few, brief snatches of recharge was not enough for a mechanism his size; he required a long, recuperative resting period, to defrag his processor and reboot his basic support systems.

He cradled his inexplicably reeling head in his hands, thoughts briefly going muzzy at the suggestion of rising once more. Though his berth was quite palatable at the moment, he doubted he would make it all the way to his sector awake. Better to snatch a few more joors of recharge here, before setting off for a more cozy rest period. All he needed was a little—

He was out before his head touched the desk.

--

Well. Skyfire certainly did live in a nice area. Very clean. Very _dull_.

Starscream grinned anew, leaning casually against the ramp's guardrail as he watched a gaggle of terrestrials stroll by the domicile complex. They gabbled amongst themselves about topics of little merit, wrapped in the good cheer only the mindless seemed capable of. Foolish little things that they were, with their small thoughts and smaller possibilities. How could anyone stand being so very ground-bound when they could, instead, live beyond the petty grasp of gravity? Tch. Their processors were as stunted as their scope of vision. Linear thinking - how very droll. The plague of simpletons, he called it.

Sneering to himself, he waited until they had turned the corner, out of sight, before straightening from his assumed post, sauntering oh-so-nonchalantly to the door. Flicking an outwardly unconcerned optic about the premises, he prodded the visitor alarm button several times, against the slim possibility that Skyfire had managed to rouse himself for a return to his home.

When the annoying, buzzing call went unheeded, he sighed theatrically - as if greatly disappointed by the turn of events - and released the button from its flattened position.

It was a simple matter to punch in the unlocking sequence; Skyfire was notoriously unoriginal in his numerical codes, evidenced by the fact that all his passwords were the precisely same. For all his creativity and intellect, Skyfire was distressingly simplistic in some regards. Honestly. Who knew what manner of person might take advantage of the childish passcodes? What an impending disaster that could turn out to be. He would have to point that out to the too-trusting scientist.

The happy fact proved true again as the door swooshed open, chiming cheerfully to alert any inattentive Cybertronian within that the abode was being invaded. Unfortunate that its intended recipient was long out of audial range.

Ah, shuttles. So very, very predictable. And so easy to manipulate.

He cautiously leaned inside, scanning the immediate foreground quickly, before sidling into the darkened room. Tripped by hidden motion sensors within the entry way, the lights flicked on to a modest glow, just enough to illuminate without forcing a visual spectrum change. Pleasant, that. Not the usual, harsh flash that always seemed to disorient any and all within range.

Satisfied with the light scheme, he allowed himself to take a long, savoring moment to take in the general ambience.

His first impression was 'spacious', followed quickly by 'clean', '_too_ clean', and 'highly destructible'.

He strolled casually about, poking and prodding here and there, getting a better feel for Skyfire's likes and dislikes. What better way to comprehend another spark than by riffling through his personal clutter? Outwardly - in an internal sort of fashion - he affirmed that he was just taking tactical notes, to better understand the 'enemy'. It was sound logic. How else would he unravel the many mysteries inherent within Skyfire? It was necessary to his cause. Strategy and all that.

Inwardly, however - in often-misplaced deeps within his mind, conveniently (and purposefully) out of reach of higher cognitive function - he simply wanted a better understanding of what made Skyfire _Skyfire_. To merely _know_ him as much as he could, to satisfy that horribly gnawing inquisitiveness that dogged him constantly. How could he resist any opportunity to learn more of the enigma that was his partner?

This notion, understandably, he denied and quelled whenever it surfaced. Curious snooping or no, that level of fondness was out of the question.

He was pleased to note that his initial assumptions were proving true: Skyfire was systematic to a fault. Everything, it seemed, had its place – a well-organized, categorical order to things that struck discordantly with Starscream's own rather… chaotic nature. Where he thought in several different directions and paths at once, Skyfire, it appeared, lived on one plane - mentally coasting where Starscream would flit and flutter about, never resting on one idea long, always pushing for _more_. Normally, it would have been off-putting. After all, such cleanliness implied a uninspired nature – too much detail, not enough scope of vision for the grand scheme of things. But this particular Skyfire-brand of blandness was… intriguing. Fascinating, even. It seemed as if it were just a facet of the shuttle's personality. A little snippet of a larger whole. And how badly he wanted to see all of it - the big picture.

Little things hindered Skyfire, yes, but they didn't inhibit him utterly. Scope. That was it. Skyfire had _scope_.

Finished with the outer room meddling, Starscream rounded the bend from the first room into the more private area, humming a mindless little tune to himself. Again, clean, though with a few apparently forgotten items scattered about here across whatever surfaces were readily available. Small things. Unimportant things. Things that told him little to nothing, save that Skyfire had a fondness of interstellar curios.

He nearly missed it on the first pass.

He paused, took a few steps back, leaning around a hidden little corner, perturbed at how out of the way the room seemed. In a roundabout, metaphorical way, it seemed to be avoiding him. Thus, defiantly, he entered it.

And stalled.

His berth was _massive_. Beyond what was required even for the bulky shuttle.

He found himself wondering if he thrashed in his sleep, or if the shuttle just liked to sprawl.

Or did Skyfire – despite all fronts to the contrary – entertain _guests_ more often than Starscream had presumed?

He was of two minds of the matter. On the one hand, he was relieved that Skyfire was, perhaps, more experienced than what had been implied. It was a rather pleasant surprise, as Starscream had never much cared for untested partners. He found them, usually, quite useless. It was tedious trying to teach them the basics, and his impatient nature would only tolerate so much. So it would be a definite plus in his datatracks if Skyfire had pre-existing knowledge in such matters.

On the other side of the credit, he found himself becoming intensely, furiously _jealous_ by the mere suggestion.

That, in itself, was rather disconcerting. He knew he had a possessive, covetous streak almost as large as his tremendous ego. He had long made his peace with this. But this… _this_ was beyond petty selfishness, careening headlong into a laughably profound feeling of vague betrayal. And, in all honesty, he shouldn't have been feeling _that_ in the least. They weren't official. Skyfire was not _his_. What (and who) he did – for now – wasn't his business.

But it _was_! He internally shrieked. It _was_ his business. Very much his business. He wanted - desperately, achingly - to have—

"Ack," He grunted, breaking off the too-emotional whining before it got out of hand. Instead, he purposefully strode about the room - asserting his dominance over it - disdaining the too-large berth as he slowly pivoted to take it all in. Again, cleanly, but not so obnoxiously as the outer rooms. Odds and ends, mostly; paraphernalia from previous studies. A stack of datapads propped on a nearby counter, clearly long disused by the thin layer of dust covering their once-pristine surfaces. Not much to go on, for intelligence gathering.

Starscream leaned back against the insidious berth, tapping one finger against its surface with a soft chime. The room looked hardly lived in – more a closet then a place of rest. Though, however, how many times had he actually _seen_ Skyfire leave the institute?

"Workaholic," Starscream muttered darkly, pushing away from his temporary perch. With a final glower about the premises, he stalked out of the chamber, continuing on his exploration. He finished the rest of his perusal within a few breems, finding not much else to give him any more tantalizing hints to Skyfire's personality. A few novelties were discovered, certainly, but not nearly enough to give him the larger picture of the shuttle's 'private' personality. A disappointment, true, but not an absolute end-all setback.

Sighing, Starscream did a careful double-check, to be certain all was as he had found it. No need to alert Skyfire to his intrusion. He carefully reset the locks, scanning the immediate vicinity in case of watchful observers. Thankfully, no one seemed about in the immediate area - a blessing of Skyfire's almost-hermit-esque living space.

Tasks completed, he turned about to depart, heading back toward the labs. There was other ways of getting past the public persona, beyond clandestine prying. Some more alluring then others, but all equally informative.

More alluring, indeed. He smirked as the thought struck him, sauntering down the access ramp.

He wondered how well Skyfire held his energon.


	4. Issues of Context

"I demand attention _right now_."

Skyfire jumped, startled by the unexpected entrance, and promptly grimaced as the fragile test tubes slipped free of his exhausted grasp and shattered against the floor. He frowned down at the gooey mess quickly spreading from the site of impact, wondering why, precisely, everyone insisted on making the containers so damnably breakable. With great reluctance, he twisted his head about to look at the door, dreading the coming confrontation. "You have it." He said neutrally, wanting nothing more than to slink into his private section of the lab and hide again. But that was not an option. The jet had finally managed to catch him outside his sanctuary and unawares, and he unfortunately lacked a viable excuse to scamper off and escape.

"Oh, good. I almost thought I'd have to start throwing things." Starscream flounced about the room, poking about as if he had never seen it before. Skyfire watched him warily, fiddling absently with his scattered odds and ends spread across the counter's surface.

"Well?" He asked, when it became increasingly clear he was expected to query the interruption.

Starscream turned wide, misleadingly innocent optics on him. "Well what?"

Skyfire frowned, as close to glowering as he dared. "What do you want?" He asked with a touch more surliness than he had meant, the lack of decent recharge and energon causing him to be brusque where he would have been patient.

"_Grouchy_," He could almost fool himself that it wasn't a pleased smirk that twitched Starscream's lips up before the jet took on a solemn countenance. "I have credits enough to get us both raving, ludicrously overcharged. What are you doing today?"

His optics widened, shocked by the candor of the offer. _Well. That was blunt_.

Skyfire hunched, mostly by habit, willing Starscream to depart before he made a fool of himself. "I don't refuel casually." He muttered, fumbling about with another set of beakers to finish up the tray he'd been interrupted with. "Overcharging is a waste of energon. It's only an excuse to act a fool in public. I'd prefer to not participate in such behavior." He explained tersely, hoping against hope that it would be enough to end the conversation.

Predictably, it wasn't.

"Nobody doesn't get overcharged," Starscream guffawed, rejecting Skyfire's declaration to the contrary. "Come now. What could _possibly_ be that bad about it?"

Skyfire cringed, grinding his dental units and shoving the last few core samples into their convenient slots. "I'm busy. I'd like to get all of _this_," he gestured at the purposeful clutter of samples and data sheets, knowing it looked more problematic than what it actually was, "Finished by the next cycle. We do have reports due, you realize. And, besides," He added stiffly, after a moment. "I don't do well with crowds." With that, he scooped up the carefully arranged sample tray, and set it in the cart with the others, ready for delivery to the head of the department. "Where did I put that geo-thermal readout?" He asked to distract the both of them, sorting through a pile of debris though he knew quite well that it was safely tucked away in his desk drawer.

Behind him, Starscream sighed exaggeratedly, hopping up to perch on the lip of the only free counter left. "Oh, please. There's nothing to it. You're blowing this all out of proportion." Deliberately ignoring the conversational jump, he tenaciously stuck to his subject. His thrusters clicked against the metal of the counter's base, lacking absolutely any sense of rhythm or beat. "It's not as if you'll go up in a puff of smoke if you dare get a little buzz."

"I know I had it out. I just looked at it." With equal persistence, Skyfire rumbled to himself, picking through another stack of datapads.

"Stop puttering about. It's irritating."

"I'm not _puttering_. I'm _working_." Skyfire muttered mutinously, though he stopped regardless. "Why are you so fixated on this?"

Starscream graced him with a flat look of disapproval. "It's a special case. You lead the dreariest existence I have ever had the misfortune to come across, and I'm going to fix it. For the sake of our association."

"It doesn't _need_ fixing. I like my life." Skyfire mewled, hurt by the candid disdain. He'd thought his life was rather interesting; a constant pursuit of knowledge, exploring star systems and testing new theories. He lived on the cutting edge of science. Of new technology. What did slumming have in comparison to his lifestyle? Random flings and a horde of over-charged idiots raring for a fight? That hardly sounded like a good time.

Did Starscream _really_ find him so piteously dull?

No, no, of course not. It was a silly thought. Why would he ask and cajole him for an outing so adamantly, if he found his company so reprehensible? No, he couldn't be as drab as Starscream implied.

And he had been pursuing the subject _endlessly_. Skyfire felt a mild flush of gratification in his spark that his partner was so keen to be around him. The attention was reason enough to refuse, if not also for the fact that he, quite honestly, floundered in extensive social situations. And there was no need for Starscream to see him in such awkwardness, when the jet clearly already found him ponderous enough as it was.

There was no enjoyment to be found in the seedy regions of Cybertron. None worth seeking out, in any case.

But, somewhere in the back of his processors, that special little place he never acknowledged, he badly wanted to take up the diminutive jet's offer, if only for the novelty of being seen out and about with him. To let others assume there was an intimate affiliation where there was none to be found. It would be a small consolation for their lack of… relationship. Self-imposed as it might have been. It was, after all, _he_ who refused any invitations, who ducked and dodged and snubbed the center of his afflictions at all costs, as much as it sometimes hurt him to do so.

But Skyfire couldn't bear the thought of rejection, of confirmation that they were friends and friends _only_, at best. This way, at least, he could go on waiting on the hope of having his affections returned, in time.

Should he go with Starscream, and sample the harder energon found in the sleazy streets the jet found so fascinating, he had no doubt he'd make a complete fool of himself, or worse. His vocalizer was easily loosened, even with just a small buzz of an overcharge. Who knew what could happen should he subject himself to temptation, with his partner in the vicinity. And there was that unpleasant factor of having a swarm of others constantly shifting about him, hampering his every move and stifling his conversational skills. With such abundant fare, and much more… forthright company available, would Starscream ever spare a glance for dry, boring old him? At the institute, at least, he had little to no competition among the staff.

Or, rather, _would_ have little to no competition, if he ever managed to cultivate enough audacity to make even a passive overture toward his… emotional muddle.

"It's not as if you have to speak to any of them." Starscream grumbled, kicking lightly at the nearest chair in a fit of vexation. "It's more the principle of the thing. Letting loose, experimenting, and all. Believe it or not, there is a world beyond dirt samples, and it _can_ be enjoyable, getting out once in a while."

"Skulking about in the slums, slogging through over-charged hoodlums and engaging in brawls in filthy streets. It's a wonder I hadn't thought of this before. It's exactly what my stuffy life has been missing. I see the metaphorical light." He hadn't meant to be quite as sarcastic, but there was no taking back the words. Running with the theme, Skyfire grinned slightly – somewhat apologetic to soften his rudeness – and shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Forgive my lack of enthusiasm for the concept."

Starscream gave him a long, speculative look. "My, Skyfire. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was rubbing off on you. That's the closest to outright cynicism you've come." In a startling change of tact, he frowned and asked, quite equably, "Are you really that embarrassed to be seen around me?"

"I- what?" Flabbergasted, Skyfire tottered back, mind scrabbling for a response to put him back in safe conversational territory. Unable to find the proper response, he blurted the first question that sprang to his mind: "How did that ever even cross your mind?"

"It's a perfectly reasonable question, given your avoidance."

"I, I'm not avoiding you at all. That's nonsensical. Why would I _avoid_ you? I'm partnered with you, for Iacon's sake."

"Oh, you make a fine show of saying so, _now_," Starscream arched his hips forward, slithering from his temporary haunt to land with a dull clang on the floor, optics narrow with suspicion. He struck a firm, uncompromising stance, one he often assumed whenever they argued over protocol or technical disputes. "But, as they say, actions speak louder than words. And so far, as I've seen it, all you've done is duck away from me at every opportunity. That seems to speak loudly enough for itself, doesn't it?" He crossed his arms, looking up defiantly, daring Skyfire to refute his implied challenge.

"Now you're being ridiculous." Skyfire mumbled. "I just, I don't like crowds, that's all. It has nothing to do with, with," He lifted his hands and made quotation marks with his fingers, "'ducking away' from anybody."

Something dodgy flashed in Starscream's optics, too fast for the flustered scientist to follow or categorize. "So, if the unwashed masses were out the equation, there wouldn't be a problem at all."

It wasn't voiced a question, but he felt a response was necessary, despite the rhetoric. "I suppose. Yes." He gushed immediately, glad for the understanding. Not half a moment later, however, he heroically resisting the urge to take a step back at the exultant gleam in his partner's optics. Skyfire felt himself suddenly on a slippery slope, on ambiguous proverbial ground with a chasm on either side and no idea how long the drop could be. There had been a mistake somewhere in there, he was certain. He couldn't for the spark of him pinpoint the moment it had all gone sour, but it was there nonetheless.

His confidence was not helped by the triumphant sneer twisting Starscream's stark features.

His fuel pump contorted oddly, unsettlingly shifting at that predatory expression. He hadn't seen that look directed at his own personage before, he was fairly certain. That singular, distinctly malicious smirk was only in evidence when someone had been hopelessly outmaneuvered and outclassed by Starscream's verbal sparring. He had a dim 

sense that he had now become that unlucky 'someone', and bitterly wished he had partaken in the teleportation technology that had recently been made available.

"Ah. See, now? That wasn't all that bad, for all your whining." Manifestly pleased with himself for reasons unknown, Starscream flicked his wrist in a dismissive gesture, and propped himself back against the counter. "So, are you free this rotation?"

"I didn't—" Skyfire broke off apprehensively, befuddled by this turn of so-called logic. This wasn't going according to plan. But, then again, did anything? "I never said I'd do anything."

Again, that devious flicker sped across Starscream's face, too quick for Skyfire to readily identify. "So you really _are_ avoiding me?"

"What? I, no, but," Skyfire gestured helplessly at himself, presenting his body in all its massive, scrupulous cleanliness, using its sheer bulk as his argument. "I _don't_ do well with _crowds_." He implored weakly, pleading with what little conscience he had seen in Starscream, willing the jet to simply concede to his protests and be done with it.

"Crowds, I can assure you, will not be an issue." Starscream all but purred. The shuttle tried not to read too deeply into the tone, lest he take it for more than what it was. It was not a professional voice to use, he thought. Could be taken all sorts of wrong ways. So many, many wrong ways…

The words caught up with his frankly conflicted processor, past the timbre they were conveyed in. With palpable mistrust, he frowned, staring hard at the entirely-too-smirky jet. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Starscream countered, affecting an aura of wide-optic'd naïveté. "I made a simple statement. It's patently straightforward. What was so hard to understand about it?"

That inkling sense of misgiving and looming danger grew exponentially. He was evading the question, hedging about and diverting the conversation, which generally meant something unpleasant was about to happen. Turmoil certain to follow. Disaster near at hand. Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Skyfire began to fidget with several baubles scattered over the nearest counter. "What, what did you mean by that?"

"I meant," Starscream began with exaggerated enunciation. "That crowds will not be an issue." His grin was unrepentant and snide. "Have you been getting much recharge? You seem very slow today."

The specific word choice sent warning signals racing down Skyfire's relay system. Ignoring the light banter, he focused on the crux of the sentence, so calculated in its ingenuous delivery. "_Will_? I haven't agreed to anything yet." He took a moment to admonish himself. Why was he arguing against it? It was an opportunity, a chance for something to happen between them.

A chance, his pessimistic mindset snorted from the peanut gallery of his conscious thought, that he would most assuredly bungle beyond the bounds of any recoverability. A thousand horrific scenarios flashed through his processor, and all of them pointed toward embarrassment and abandonment. Starscream would surely transfer out, humiliated by Skyfire's freakishly intense adoration, if only to spare them both the mortification of continued association. Their rapport would be ruined, irreversibly. He would never see him again.

Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. His chronometer had already begun to malfunction from the stress of their relationship. He could get back to basics. It would be a relief to be free of this madness.

Despite himself, Skyfire huffed a deep breath, resigning himself back to lunacy. It was the same argument as ever. He wouldn't go through with it – not quite yet.

Starscream pursed his lips, as if in deep meditation, ignorant of Skyfire's rising panic. Then, nodding to himself, "You did say 'yes'. One generally assumes that when one says 'yes' to something, they're agreeing."

"When?" Skyfire blurted, then grimaced when he realized his slip, going back over the conversation. Ah. Tricky. Very tricky. "I didn't say yes to that. I said yes to the other question."

"They were one in the same." The wily jet said artlessly, spreading his hands placatingly.

"You're just playing with context now."

"It's all very relative," Starscream waved a hand flippantly, sauntering to the door with a distinct swagger in his step. "Don't worry about it. You'll enjoy yourself." And just like that, he was gone around the corner, off to realms unknown.

For now, at least.

Skyfire made a skeptical noise in the back of his vocalizer, flopping back to sag against the counter. He rubbed at the front of his head, groaning to the universe in general, "Great Iacon, what did I get myself into?"

Understandably, the cosmos declined comment.


	5. Jitters and Twitters

He was not nervous. No. He was very calm, very collected, and, slag it all to the Pit, where was he?

Starscream shifted about, drawing in further upon himself in a sulk. His optics darted about once, twice, probing the ever-shifting horde of his fellow Cybertronians. But no bulky, white form bobbed into view, and for all intents and purposes, did not seem to have any intention to.

Harrumphing, he resolutely unwound himself, standing stiff and proud, staring down any whom had the poor judgment to happen to glance his way. No need to broadcast his distress.

Perhaps he had pressed too hard, and spooked the shockingly reclusive shuttle off. It was understandable; he had been rather… forthright. But it was getting so very frustrating, waiting on Skyfire's damnably protracted logic paths. Plans had had to be put into action, or they would continue this awkward dance for even longer than it had already been going on for. It was no use waiting for a _transport_ to make a pass. He should have realized that early on, and pushed harder, rather than simply loitering about, impatiently watching for a bumbling first move.

He scanned the premises again, the prickling sensation of anxiety again creeping up his central neural cable. Still, not a hint nor sign of the hulking mechanism; only a gigantic, Skyfire-shaped void in his immediate sight. The sense of apprehension escalated, a pessimistic little part of his mind began crowing in some sort of masochistic delight.

Skyfire wouldn't stand him up; not without at least some notification, or an excuse of some sort. Of course not. It wasn't in his principles to be that rude. He was just very, very late – uncharacteristically so.

It was possible he had lost interest, despite how much the jet balked at the notion. Conceivably, that could explicate why he had so doggedly evaded Starscream's person, fleeing at every available opportunity. It would justify much of his recent behavior. Who wouldn't be embarrassed at infatuation lost?

Snorting, he reallocated his weight again, discomfited. He wasn't _supposed_ to be the one with leftover sentiments. It wasn't in his nature to feel strong affection for others; he never had before been so attached so thoroughly to one spark. Had never intended to, either. It was much more enjoyable to keep to brief whimsy and lust, they being less complicated than tangling with stronger emotions.

His partners had been varied and interesting, yes, but, ultimately, were easily discarded, with little to no remorse. He had been well pleased with his existence. Things had been going rather swimmingly, he had thought. His world was in order, everything had its place and function. Nothing was missing.

But no, his situation just could not stay as he liked it. Skyfire had to barge his way in, completely uninvited, and ruin everything he touched upon. That lumbering, wonderful, _horrible_ mechanism that he was, completely unassuming in his utter conquest of the tetrajet's spark, infiltrating Starscream's even most private thoughts. He had never been so confounded and fascinated and _bothered_ by someone in all his life. All his charm and charisma was less than useless against Skyfire's intractable obliviousness, his stubborn idiocy in all things lacking a scientific doctrine behind it. By all rights he shouldn't have even had the ridiculous feelings to begin with. None of it made any sort of coherent sense. There was no validation for these absurd happenings; no reasoning his way from where they had started to what it had become.

This was all just… just so… stupid! That's what it was. Stupid.

Skyfire was making him stupid. And sentimental. And most likely driving him mad, as well, in more ways than one.

And, Primus save him, he _liked_ it.

Slumping back against his assumed post, the jet twittered a not-altogether-sane laugh, clicking off his optics to avoid having to meet the frankly questioning glances he had no doubt were being cast his way. Great Iacon, he _was_ getting stupider. Better to simply return to his own abode and give up on all this nonsense. It was that dolt's fault for being late in the first place. He could hardly be blamed for lack of trying.

He thought all this, firm in his resolution, and did not move one nanometer from his position.

Just a joor more. A joor more, and he would leave, and think on this insanity no more. Such a small time longer could not hurt, surely. One _little_ joor.

That masochistic, dark place in the back of his mind guffawed, settling in for a good, long wait.

_Idiot._

--

Skyfire stood irresolute, staring with dull, flat optics at the silent door. The entryway remained impassive under his scrutiny, awaiting the tiniest step forward to open and expose him to all the outside world and its many inherent dangers.

He was late, and that jangled harshly against his punctual nature. But, no matter what he did, he could not get his mind off that frighteningly wicked smirk he had been cast. Nobody got a look like that for nothing. Especially after finding out someone had been purposefully ignoring them for cycles upon cycles. He wrung his hands anxiously – he had believed himself quite clever in his avoidance. If he was so painfully transparent about _that_… what else had Starscream deduced? Would he be offended, mortified by the thought of Skyfire's adoration? Even now, did he suspect something? Was that was this whole business was about? Was he going to confront him and tell him, in no uncertain terms, what he thought of Skyfire's silly infatuation?

Of course, there were other implications that could have been overlooked in his first assessment. It was that teasing edge to his voice as he left, Skyfire supposed. It threw off his reading of that facial expression that had accompanied it. Or enhanced it. He wasn't really all that sure.

It was better to not dwell on the brighter potentiality. He would be less disappointed if he didn't think on it too much.

His hand twitched toward the door, but the rest of him remained as it was.

This could be a wonderful opportunity to finally announce himself. It could also be an impending calamity. He'd rather remain good friends, and work associates, than declare emotions that could very well go unreciprocated, just to sate his curiosity. Affection was one of those inordinately variable emotions, mutable to time and differing factors of the relationship. Who was to say that, even if he could persuade Starscream to indulge him, that it would last? And what if his own feelings changed, after a time? They had not known each other that long. It wasn't exactly an implausible notion.

On the other side of the credit, the possibilities that were opened up if Starscream was to be convinced to feel the same…

"This is all very stupid," He said to the door, conversationally, mostly to derail his meandering thoughts before he 

did something incredibly inane. "The sensible thing to do would be to just ignore this." And he was nothing if not sensible. He could very well squash this irrationality, cramming in the back of his mind, and be as cold and detached as possible. But that didn't sound at all pleasant, stifling himself with such constant objectivity in regards to his partner. He wasn't programmed to be as such, with other mechanisms.

"It might be better to know. To acquire an answer, even if it's a refusal." His voice sounded hollow and blaring against the oppressive quiet of his domicile, and it struck him as rather asinine to be speaking so to a _doorway_. Despite that oddness of talking to the inanimate, however, he felt somewhat better, for voicing what he was thinking. He rather hoped it wouldn't become a habit.

The door declined to respond further than a blinking of its tiny light.

Somewhat disappointed by the lack of meaningful dialogue, he shrugged absently, waving a hand to trigger to motion sensor. The entryway's bell chimed blithely, and the door swished open without further ado. Staring out of the opening, he fluttered his hands uncertainly, anxiety plucking at him. This was getting ridiculous. It was just an outing.

Besides, it could be something perfectly harmless. It wasn't as if he _had_ to admit what he felt, right now.

His tension somewhat mitigated, he stepped quickly outside, and transformed, taking to the immediate airspace with habitual ease. It was a familiar route, back to the institute, but he often slowed along the way, as if confused on which direction he should have been heading.

Despite his tactical stalling, he eventually reached it, touching down a smidge harsher than he intended at the landing pad. He walked forward, hesitated, and then started again, down the ramp and into the busy byway. Squinting, he scanned the crowd with his optics, at a distinct advantage over the other Cybertronians by virtue of his height.

There was a flicker of movement out of sync with the horde to his right, and he turned his head accordingly.

Starscream gave him a somewhat arch look, perched at head height on the sloping rail of a ramp. He straddled the wall as if it were intended for that very use, one leg jackknifed to his chest while the other swung idly, narrowly missing several hapless mechanisms' heads. "You're late." He said without preamble, a sulky prince upon his throne.

"I'm sorry. I got… caught up in something," The shuttle lied lamely, ill at ease with the faintly accusing glower directed at his person. It was rather strange, being of even height with Starscream. Disorienting, really. By Iacon, it would be so easy to pull him down. To touch those sleek wings.

Someone jostled against his side, shoving by with a rude mutter. Skyfire moved out of the flow of traffic, frowning at the offending mechanism's back. "I thought you said crowds weren't going to be an issue."

"They wouldn't have been, had you been on time. You hit the rush," Starscream shrugged, sliding off of his roost. "And they won't be for much longer." He pivoted about, crooking a finger in a 'come hither' gesture.

Obediently, Skyfire followed, relieved to be extricated from the confines of the thronging byway. The flow of Cybertronians closed behind him, leaving not a ripple in his wake. "It's off planet?" He asked, as they crested the rise back onto the platform he had just vacated.

"Yes," Starscream responded, as if it were the single most obvious thing in the universe.

Skyfire paused for half a beat, then queried, "Do I need to stock up?"

"No," Starscream said, leaping up and twisting into his tetrajet form. Skyfire took a few precious astroseconds to appreciate the display of agility and form, enjoying his viewpoint to its fullest extent. "It won't be a problem. It's close by."

"Oh," He mumbled, distraught that his bid for postponing their excursion was so disregarded, before transforming with less pomp and following after. It took a profound effort to catch up to the speedy tetrajet, but he managed to just pull even, taxing his thrusters to their limits. "Must we go this fast?"

"Yes," Starscream replied airily, though he, reluctantly, slowed, allowing him to ease off from their breakneck pace.

"How close by is it?" Skyfire asked, hoping to fill out the awkward monosyllabic responses.

"Close enough," The tetrajet said casually, dodging a definitive reply.

"Do I know it, at least?"

"Oh, I'd say you do. And remember, Skyfire," Starscream chuckled, quite impishly, and banked away, toward whatever target he was heading for. "You brought this on yourself."

--

"So… tell me again why we're here," Skyfire turned about to take in the entirety of the familiar expanse that surrounded them. It hadn't been so long ago that he had seen the world, and been liberally coated in its abundant, clinging dust. Nothing had changed since his previous visit; it was still the same broken surface, the sullen grey pall over every slab of stone. Jagged pillars, evidence of the planet's final, tectonic death throes, cropped up in a dim mockery of a cityscape around them, though it lacked any semblance of a grid order.

Its atmosphere wasn't far different from Cybertron's, lacking much by the way of its own density. But in either direction, unlike home, they were utterly and completely alone, without even a single light to break the monotony.

Once on the planet had been enough. More than enough.

"You don't like people," Starscream said brightly, evidently quite pleased with himself. "So I removed any and all people from the equation." He gestured expansively, as if to further illustrate their isolation. "If not for your antisocial tendencies, we could have gone somewhere nice."

"I didn't say I don't like people. I said I disliked crowds," Skyfire corrected absently. If he didn't know better, he would swear the dust was actively, maliciously attacking him, intent on covering every particle of his being. "Now that we're here, however… why?"

Starscream flashed his unique, devious grin, and a cube materialized in his hand. "I said I had enough credits to get us overcharged. And that's what I have every intention of doing."

With that, he offered the shining cube to the shuttle, a second cube appearing by slight of hand in his other palm.

Cautiously, Skyfire took the presented energon, the sensors in his fingertips relaying a startling purity in the mixture. "This is high grade," Skyfire blurted in shock, turning the iridescent cube over to watch the way its color swirled. It was much prettier than mid-grade energon, he thought, which was his habitual fare. Tentatively, he took a sip, and nearly reeled at the astonishing amount of unadulterated energy suddenly zinging along his fuel lines. Wobbling backwards, he murmured, "Potent high grade," before offering it back, trying to put his equilibrium servos back into order. A sense of giddy delight washed through him, the kind only accessible from the well-processed energon those in the Towers tended to enjoy. "How did you get a hold of this?" Already, his words were becoming slurred, his mind lagging from the pleasant buzz he was working on.

"Don't snub a gift given. Besides…" Starscream's smirk was as persuasive as it was wide, as he pushed the mostly full cube back toward Skyfire. "What's the harm in one?"

He thought about it a moment, then took another delicious swig. It was amazing, how much better high grade was. "Just one," He acceded sheepishly, sitting down before he could fall down. What was the harm in a little fuzziness, after all?


	6. The Dangers of Liquid Courage

He probably should have known better.

More inebriated than he could ever recall being, Skyfire lurched upright, gawking dazedly at the impassive stars. A delightful, warm numbness spread from his spark, tingling along his various sensor patches, and suffusing his very being with a sense of _rightness_. It was a strange phenomenon; somewhere between having his sensory perceptions on hyperaware status, and being dead out in recharge. He decided he rather liked it, despite the general sluggishness of his reactions, and the lapse in his optics. Not as if he really needed to be fast. He had, with much conviction about the matter, absolutely no intention of ever walking again, in any case. It was too nice to just lie there and experience the singular joy of overcharge in all its woozy wonder.

_Overcharge_. That wasn't right. He was no lightweight, after all, prone to slip under the table from such a small amount as one cube, even if it was high-grade.

Images drifted through his mind, little sparks of recollection; dim, faded around the edges, but potent nonetheless. Apparently, as one became further inebriated, counting became difficult; an unfortunate fact he had not entered into his earlier acceptance. He squinted, trying to focus through the miasma of his energon-soaked haziness, optics scanning for his partner in intoxication.

Empty energon containers littered the ground between them, across the cold stone of a dead world. Some distance away, Starscream lay sprawled in an apparent stupor, arms crossed contentedly over his chest. One foot twitched restlessly, and the jet squirmed, riding out another aftershock of too much energon and too little motion.

"I… I think I had more than one," Skyfire grunted to his prone companion, lethargically rolling over to rest on his front, chin flat against the dirt.

"Mm?" Hummed the stymied lump of steel and wiring that had once been Starscream.

"I said, I think I had more than one," Skyfire wobbled as he rose to his knees, his sense of balance shifting somewhere to his left. Accordingly, he followed the directions of his gyroscopes, and promptly clanked down onto his side. A cloud of dusty grit rose around him, settling nicely onto his white frame in skirls of brown and grey. "Oh," He mumbled, frowning, batting the air away from his face in a futile gesture. The motes, caught by the wind of his arm's passage, only hastened to their destinations, while he ended up haplessly throwing up more of the grime to swirl languidly through the thin air. His vision obscured by a thin glaze of powdery sand resting upon his optics' lenses, he gave up the fight, surrendering to his new coating.

He would have to have Starscream wash him again, after they went back to Cybertron. If he remembered it all rightly, and he was reasonably certain he did, that had been an extremely nice cleaning. The best he'd ever had.

A dopey smile crossed his face, his optics brightening and dimming behind their shroud of grey. "It was very nice," He said companionably, grinning at the eddies in the dirt. "I quite enjoyed it all."

There was a guffaw somewhere in the general vicinity of the tetrajet, followed by a rather garbled, "I think you did, too," and a general shifting of metal on sand. "On both counts."

"I probably shouldn't have done that," Skyfire muttered, to what ends he was not certain of, and tottered forward on his hands and knees, not daring to risk standing again after his last mishap. He crawled to Starscream, on a whimsy, and flopped down with a great, contented sigh by the jet's side, the residue of the dead world puffing up and around them both like agitated flies.

Lazily, Starscream tilted his head to regard him, and his newfound post; the motion taking far longer than it usually did as his processors lagged. A deeply satisfied smirk crossed his face, twisting lopsidedly upward, and his gaze softened somewhat from its customary hauteur. It did wonders for his features, normally so harsh and aloof, with his lips no longer arranged in angles so severe. The gentleness, so alien upon his face, made him all the more attractive, much in the way a sunrise could make even the steepest, most jagged of cliffs forgiving with its muted glow.

Skyfire decided that he rather liked the expression, and met it with a hesitant smile of his own, in the hopes that he could encourage it to stay.

As if remembering himself, and his ways, the softness flitted away, immediately replaced with the sardonic sort of glee such crooked smiles usually held. "It was fun. Don't lie." Starscream chuckled with obvious delight, raking his optics over a disappointed Skyfire's dust-covered form. He prodded the shuttle's side with one finger, leaving a white dot amidst the grey-brown. "You're a mess."

With a rather disjointed reply, the inebriated scientist reached out, and drew the indolent jet closer, snuggling the smaller body against him. It seemed like a good idea to lay his arm across Starscream's middle, to help keep him on the ground before they both drifted off into space. Yes. Even better to curl his fingers around the armor, just for a better anchorage. And why not, while he was at it, nuzzle against the top of Starscream's head? It was all for the greater good. His mind wandered, and something about water pressure floated lazily by his consciousness, and sunrises of distant worlds.

"Didn't know you were a cuddler," The jet in his arms chided, voice dropping into the husky. Was it just his imagination, or had the body beside his wriggled closer, despite the light admonishment?

"Mmm," Not entirely lucid, Skyfire began to run his mostly lax hand along Starscream's flanks, chuckling at the pleased purr of turbines. He felt a shifting in the small form beside him, and moved his hand accommodatingly as Starscream twisted onto his side, folding his wings back to allow the new posture.

The shuttle's optics flickered when a smaller hand slithered up his abdomen and over his torso shortly thereafter, curling possessively around him.

Skyfire sighed again, great puffs of dust rising from his lips, petting the captured jet absently, leaving trails of streaky sand in his wake. He felt an incredible sense of peace overtake him, all those annoying things that usually fluttered about his head thoroughly silenced by the sweet high-grade singing through his fuel lines. Memories, freed by a faltering processor, floated in and out of his mind, disconnected little parts of conversations and events from different parts of his life. Some more insistently than others.

"Do you remember when we met?" The question bubbled up out of nowhere, thoroughly out of any context. Nevertheless, he decided to go along with the trend, as thinking up a different query would require far too much mental effort.

Starscream paused, and Skyfire all but swore he could hear the jet's central processor slogging through energon to grasp at his memory banks. "Um, yes. I think the main lab exploded that day," He said, after a few moments of consideration. "Why?"

"I thought you were kind of pretty. Think, I mean," He amended, running a digit between the seams of those angular wings that had so long eluded him. When the tetrajet didn't object, he hooked a finger under ailerons, and flapped them back and forth, thoroughly entertained by their motion.

"Oh?" Starscream murmured, a quiet laugh under his voice. The arm around Skyfire's waist jerked, jarring the shuttle's hand away from the ticklish ailerons, and he reluctantly gave off his sport.

"I mean now, and then. Both. At the same time, but not exactly, because they were – are – different times, in fact," Skyfire clarified, resuming his previous path between the seams of wings, rewarded for his efforts by a quiet hum of contentment.

Reveling in the pleasant fuzziness that flooded his systems – both from the high grade and the proximity of their bodies, he tilted his head lower, dropping his deep voice into something resembling a whisper. "Dunno why. Didn't like little jets before. Loud ones especially, for that matter. Thought they were annoying." He hesitated, optics flickering in consternation, then, with great gentleness, broke the news: "You _are_ rather annoying, sometimes."

"My, wherever did you learn to talk so sweetly?" Starscream's voice all but dripped with sarcasm, and he prodded at the shuttle's side. "Please, by all means, go on singing my praises. It's all so very_ flattering_."

Skyfire chuckled dumbly, a number of verbal responses darting beyond his immediate ken, and took to running his hand a little more insistently in lieu of pursuing his previous tangent. Something tugged at the back of his mind, something sharp and cold like rational thought, so he pushed it away, concentrating on the warm murkiness of a heavy overcharge, losing himself in what daring it could provide. "I've been thinking about you a lot, lately. You and me. Us. We," He ran out of pronouns, and lapsed into a philosophical silence, feeling deeply limited by the range of language.

A wing, cool and magnificently tangible beneath his questing hand, shivered unexpectedly, not at all by what he had been doing, and he felt as if a great deal of attention was suddenly focused upon him. Mutedly startled, he waited patiently for Starscream to say something – something no doubt witty and cutting and clever as always – but no words came forth. He wondered if he had said the wrong thing, had somehow offended his partner. That would have been most unpleasant, he decided; if Starscream got agitated now, he would probably never let Skyfire play with his ailerons again, and _that_ would be a tragedy on a cosmic scale.

Made inconsolably morose by the very notion, his finger twitched up, and pushed the flap up and down with a rather endearing squeak. Oh, yes, a horror not worth contemplating.

Jolting in surprise, Starscream bucked away, rattled by the tickling invasion. "What were you saying?" He said abruptly, as if the words had been torn from his vocalizer by some implacable force. With effort he propped himself up, putting himself optic to optic with Skyfire. "What were you saying just then?"

"Oh… nothing," Skyfire sighed gustily. The aileron he had played with was out of convenient range. He would have to shift, now, if he were to reach it again, which was quite impossible, considering how very comfortable he was. Instead, he let his optics drift over and around Starscream, thinking that he should perhaps draw back to spare them some distance, but not particularly inclined to. "You're quite dusty," He informed the jet apologetically.

"Yes, yes, I know that, but," Slurred by the high-grade, his words blurred together, becoming a jumbled mass of syllables, nigh unintelligible from one another. "What was that, that all you were going on about, just then, with _us_ and _we_?"

Not up to the task of interpreting the mass of almost-words, Skyfire tilted his head back, as if a wider view would give him a better understanding of the jet's point. "What?"

Starscream gave him a very blank, if vaguely hostile, look, that was, in and of itself, its own new emotion that defied explanation and reason. "_We_?"

"We what?" He paused, and thought of the order of words, sounding them out to better ease his greatly inhibited mental processes. "What _we_?" But understanding did not come, and his optic ridges drew low in contemplation at the profound differences between such similar sentences.

There was a curious, flat silence, and suddenly all of that focus that had been turned upon him seemed to drain away. "Oh," Said the jet, quietly, withdrawing his arm, and then scooting away. "Never mind, then."

Not quite following, Skyfire spent a bewildered moment struggling to comprehend the sudden gulf between their bodies, and the lack of tangibility beside him. His hand, of late exploring realms only imagined of, fell on empty air, and unfeeling dust. _No, no, no,_ some part of his still-functioning psyche whined, flailing its metaphorical arms and legs in a fit of incomprehension. _Come back, come back_—

"Come back," He mewled plaintively, reaching out with one wavering hand. "I didn't mean to say it, I won't say it again," He promised, thinking if he swore not to speak of the dangerous 'us' again, the jet might return to him.

But Starscream did not venture toward him again, staring at some space beyond the dead planet between them. "I, I didn't think about what I was doing. I suppose I assumed that… it was rather stupid of me, wasn't it? Putting so much emphasis on such a silly, fleeting thing. Well, not that much. I don't really care one way or another. Really." The jet said with a bitter sort of wistfulness, a smile that was not at all a smile twisting up again, some note of self-mockery evident within its warped symmetry. "I understood what you meant by it perfectly well. You don't have to say it again."

Skyfire did not at all like this turn of events. Stammering, he began, "I'm sorry; I can't help it. I've been thinking, and thinking, and I don't know, I just, I want you to, us to…" He trailed off uncertainly when the words failed to help his cause, grasping in vain at a coherent sentence. It eluded his grasp, slipping ever farther into the dazed recesses of his mind. Trying anew, he said, "I'm…" before again falling into that disoriented, baffled silence, and feeling more damage was done still.

"It's not that important," Starscream said suddenly, huffily, looking at anywhere but the flummoxed shuttle. "It never was. Not as if I need you. I got along just fine before, after all." He said scornfully, tottering to his feet, staring out at the horizon as if he suddenly willed it to burst into flames. "Not in the slightest. I can do perfectly well on my own."

Panicky now, Skyfire lumbered to sit upright, reeling, feeling as if something very dear and precious to him were slipping through his fingers, retreating to the far reaches of impossibility. Floundering helplessly, he shook his head, some cynical part of him intoning: _nothing for it now, might as well have out with it. _

"I've been thinking about us so often," He said quickly, remorsefully. "Sometimes it's all that I can think about."

Starscream's head jerked toward him, and he glared with sudden, wounded fury at Skyfire, as if some immense hurt had just been callously jostled. His mouth opened to make some blistering remark—

But Skyfire had already moved, heaving forward and onto his knees to plaster a hand over the jet's mouth before a rebuff could form. "Please, just, if you don't want to listen to it, fine, but I, I have to say it all, or this will," He waved his free hand, struggling for the proper sentence to order his chaotic, hysteric thoughts in. "Otherwise this all will end messily, and I don't want you to… for there to be anger between us."

The red optics, the only part of Starscream's face visible over Skyfire's massive palm, narrowed, but his head twitched up and down once, in a sullen nod.

"I, I wanted to tell you that," He took a moment to steady himself when he would have listed aside, only dogged willpower keeping him upright. "I can't help but look at you, and want you, and I thought that if I ignored it all it would go away and it _didn't_, and I'm sorry, because I would- I want to stay with you, even if you don't feel the same, and I promise I won't talk about it anymore, but, if you don't want to be around me any longer, I, I, just, please, just stay for a _little_ while longer. Please. Please stay."

As he had spoken, Starscream's optics had widened by leaps and bounds, until they were very nearly perfect circles of carmine. Still wearing the expression of absolute shock, he said something, the words lost behind Skyfire's flattened hand, transmogrified into a lilting murmur of sound.

Skyfire, sheepish, he pulled the offending limb back to allow the jet to speak. For some, inexplicable reason he was relieved that he had finally broken down, and yet somehow all the more terrified for that fact. Exposed, on some level. "… What did you say?" He managed, after a few, tense moments of silence.

"Great _Primus_, shuttles are so _stupid_," Starscream hissed abruptly, with acid in his tone. "Could you get any more convoluted, you great floundering idiot?"

Before Skyfire had time to let the rather unkind remark sink in past his muddled servos, there was a sudden, heavy weight colliding with him, sending him sprawling backwards into the dust. Mostly by instinct, his arms went forward to grasp at the threat, and he stared upward at the stars that blanketed the sky, quite at a loss. "What?" He said, for what felt like the hundredth time, deeply and profoundly perplexed when the object – which he quickly identified as a rather peeved Starscream – punched his cockpit rather hard, and then flopped down gracelessly to clasp him once again.

"I can't believe you were so inane by accident. By Iacon, you make no sense, you silly thing!" It was an odd medley of emotion, all boiled together in his tone; breathless irritation, colored over with a veneer of weak-kneed incredulity, and, incongruous to his words, he pulled Skyfire all the closer, as if seeking some sort of osmosis. "This, _this_ is why I never look for shuttles."

"I think I might have missed something important," Skyfire uttered, in a sonorous voice of grave puzzlement. But he looked down and, abruptly, decided that it wasn't very important that he understood it; only that it had happened. "You're not upset?" He folded his great arms around the body so suddenly, blessedly near again, a heady sense of joy bubbling up in his spark.

"Of course I'm upset, you great lummox! Don't you know how long I've been waiting around on you?"

"So – so this whole time…?" Skyfire stuttered, feeling quite the fool.

"Yes, with no help from you. Primus, you took so _long_, that I thought—" He broke off suddenly, clearly loathing to drift back to such unpleasantness.

"But why didn't you _say_ anything, then?" Aghast, Skyfire struggled against the commands of his gyroscopes, forcing himself to incline at a better slant to stare down disbelievingly.

Starscream gave him a frank look, blandly stating: "I like to be pursued."

He gave himself a few moments to process the remark, past his inebriation. When it did, he groaned aloud, feeling a static migraine starting up somewhere in the leftmost region of his cranium. "Oh, by the Towers and the Pits," He muttered, slumping back as, all at once, the nervous, tense energy that had so sustained him abandoned him in a rush, leaving only dizziness in its absence. "You – you're so contrary," He wailed quietly, shutting off his optics. "If I wasn't overcharged, I don't think any of this would make sense. Even then, it doesn't make a great deal."

"It hasn't made sense from the onset; why start now?" Starscream challenged, now a distinct, heavy slur in his voice. His hand slipped down, and suddenly drifted along the side of the reeling shuttle's nosecone, evoking both sensors and scandalously vivid memories. Skyfire gave a strangled gasp, surprised by the brazen move, and his optics came back online in a blaze of azure light.

"Sensitive area?" Teased the jet primly, tapping one finger against the side of his plating, all painfully false innocence.

Mortification bid Skyfire to fling himself into the nearest sun as realization dawned. Hunching his shoulders, he rebooted his vocalizer needlessly once, then again, before meekly inquiring, "You, ah, you knew about that?"

"Tch. Of course. I did it on purpose," Starscream said archly, quite well pleased with himself.

"Oh," Skyfire said slowly, wondering how long it would take him to reach the nearest star. "Oh. I see." But then a hand slid down his side, alerting him again to the welcoming presence half atop him, and he had no more room to think of such things as petty, life-threatening embarrassment in the sudden tangle of limbs that followed.

It was not the most graceful affair; but then, with such heavy levels of energon consumed as they had, it rarely was. In both their minds, in later recollection, it would come across as a blurred hodgepodge of images and sensations, and perhaps it was for the better. A great part of it was trial and error – though mostly error, as intoxication generally made limb coordination a chore in and of itself.

Afterward, of course, they flopped down together and went into a deep stupor, contented to the point where exhaustion, at last, could lay claim to them. In this routine they continued for a margin of short cycles, until, inevitably, energy began to run short, and reluctantly their conversation turned towards returning home.

"I can't help but feel faintly used, in all of this. At a disadvantage." Skyfire said with a drowsy sort of cheerfulness, more relaxed than he could remember being, for the last few cycles at the institute. It was unfortunate they would have to return so very soon; but they had gotten no leave, both expecting it to be a simple, short jaunt.

"Used?" Starscream parroted for the sake of conversation, still quite willing to slip back into recharge – and slag the institute to the Pit for all he cared – curled placidly against Skyfire's side. He made a small, unhappy sound when Skyfire shifted, peering down at the half-dozing tetrajet with a reprimanding mien, and clutched useless in an attempt to keep the larger mechanism in place.

"First you attack me in the wash rack," Skyfire waited for the disbelieving guffaw to subside, before continuing on persistently. "And then you proceed to take advantage of my inebriated state to ply your wiles—"

"You were the one who—" Indignant, Starscream started to pull himself up, only to be restrained by the gentle but firm hand resting upon his waist.

"Now, hush, let me finish," Skyfire chided, repressing a grin. "And leaving me here all the while in the dark to your machinations. I mean, you took advantage of me, while I was _intoxicated_. On purpose. It seems, now that I think of it, somewhat imbalanced, not to mention morally questionable. Thus, I believe a compensation for my abused person is in order."

"Compensation? _Abused_? I don't see why you—oomph!" Starscream, not expecting the roll, stared up with a charming, all-too-rare timid nervousness, thoroughly pinned beneath Skyfire's bulk.

"No, fair's fair, I think," He overrode whatever statement the trapped jet might have made, determined to make the most of his liquid courage. Looking down, he gave his captive a long, thoughtful perusing, frowning sternly. His confidence was greatly improved by their mutual admissions, and he found himself in wonderment that he could have so long avoided such bliss as he had found, on such a long dead planet.

Starscream squirmed, disliking to be at such a vulnerability as he was presented at. "What?" He snapped, dredging up some hint of his usual acerbic tone. "Why are you staring like that?"

"Starscream…" Skyfire said, leaning down until they were nose to nose. He smiled, lips curling into what, he supposed, was an all-but perfect imitation of Starscream's own wicked smirk, and his optics raked the smaller jet's dust-coated face.

"You're filthy."

–**Fin**–

* * *

I am going to break my own taboo and do an end note, because I am probably sending out a horrible message to everyone: getting drunk fixes _everything_. D:


End file.
